Saturday was our Wedding Anniversary. Eleven years. A year out of the single-digits and into the forever world of double digits.
So, we went away for a little less than 24 hours (thank you Maryann and Lindy for making this possible by We went to the beach. Romantic balcony room on the water. Jacuzzi Spa in the room. (This post will remain rated G, readers.) Suffice to say that we had a marvelous time alone together.
In the weeks leading up to our anniversary I would have to say that we have been in a season of nit-picking. I think I have done 87-92% of the picking. I am pregnant, after all, and have lost my mind. I have KNOWN in these nit-picking weeks that if I would just LET STUFF GO that we would both be so much happier, but alas, I had not the self control to make this happen. And when a man is being hen-pecked 92% of the time, what husband would be motivated to change his behavior either? So we were driving each other crazy for days and days, weeks and weeks on end choosing to fight every battle, all for the sake of simply being right.
But in the 36 hours before we went away (we argued about every detail of going away, by the way), we were both sweet like sugar to each other. And it was not a fake sugar. No aspartame or splenda here. We were both choosing to NOT fight battles that did not matter (something that my un-pregnant self can do usually much better, and something my unprovoked husband is GREAT at). In those glorious 36 hours, life around here was so nice.
I pray that in the next three months before this baby comes, and in the weeks following birth when my hormones REALLY wreak havoc on my mind and body (gotta love waking up drenched in postpartum night-sweats) that the Lord would comfort my husband who might just need it. More than that, though, I pray that I would not fight every battle, that I would find ways to build him up often, and that he would be blessed.